In Georgetown, Washington D.C., there are some creepy places. Funny how the spot where a scene in an old 1970s horror movie was shot can cause goosebumps. I'll be posting my thoughts soon. In the meantime, Happy Halloween...
Before I do my stupid little review of El Cazadores Restaurant, I want to pontificate on Mexican Restaurant names. Almost anything spoken in Spanish sounds sexy to me, or cool. Take the restaurant El Sombrero; makes me think "old Mexico", you know, really authentic. If I named my restaurant El Sombrero, you'd be visiting "The Hat Restaurant". Doesn't exactly make your mouth water, right? The Crazy Chicken sounds sort of stupid too (El Pollo Loco), or Que Pasa (What's Happening) ...where's Rerun? How about, Tacos El Gordo? The Fat Person Taco. Yum.
So part of my quest today was to discover what a Cazadores is? I know it's a tequila. In fact, one of my favorites. So I asked our camarera (waitress), in my broken Spanish, what it meant (I like to bust out my Spanish and make an ass out of myself whenever the chance pops up). Remarkably, she understood my question and she replied it was a hunter. So, in my mind, there are several possible ways the name for this restaurant came about:
1. The dudes that own the restaurant like to hunt and "El Amigos" was taken. 2. They liked the American restaurant "Hungry Hunter" so much that they... 3. The dudes were drinking tequila and trying to think up a name; at some point the name on the bottle got them to thinking...
I'm guessing #3
OK, let's move on to the review. We sat down and fresh, warm, seasoned chips came out with a tasty salsa. I went easy on the chips because I knew a buffet was on the menu for today. Mexican food is well suited for buffet. But that doesn't make them all equal.
I'll be up front and admit I'm not very adventurous. Here's the stuff I dished up. I loaded up on the mini cheese enchiladas, rice with a big scoop of chili verde, chicken fajitas, and some "guilt" veggies that I had no intention of eating. I'm a buffet technician. I size up the big ticket items and just get that.
Yeah, I like beans—but I like fajitas a whole bunch more. And when I order fajitas at a typical restaurant you get such a disappointing amount of meat. Salad? Why? Macaroni salad? Only if I'm at KFC. Keep in mind, these are "buffet" plates engineered to hold a little food as possible and still qualify for something other than a child's tea set.
I can say, without hesitation, that this was some of the best "buffet" food I've chowed on for some time. La Costa used to have a pretty good buffet at their old location, but they had a server. So you had to keep saying shit like "más por favor", "poco más", "guárdelo el venir". Here you get to pile it on until your plate resembles something from a Dr. Suess book. The rice was moist, the chili verde was spicy with tender pieces of pork. The chicken fajitas were great. Appeared to be all breast meat with a nice balance of onions and red pepper ratio. The mini cheese enchiladas we're moist and cheesy. In fact, after spreading the veggies out to make it look like I ate some, I went back for a second helping of chili verde and enchiladas. Atmosphere is like Applebee's or something—but that's OK. El Cazador is comfortable and the service was great. They have a full bar with early bar special and entertainment on certain nights. So it would be a good place to hit at different times of the day. For $9, including the drink- it was worthy of a revisit.
Chips and Salsa: **** Food: **** Service: **** Atmosphere: ***
N.L. Bandito:
What better for a Halloween treat than to go review a Mexican restaurant called “The Hunter”? El Cazador restaurant is complete with severed animal heads on walls and a casino carpet worthy of slots, craps and black jack. It’s located on Truxton Avenue, just a hop west of Oak Street in the old Cask and Cleaver restaurant. You getting the holiday theme here? Heads cleaved onto walls, ghosts of old steakhouse waiters who used to stalk chicks in their cool 1980s waiter shorts. It’s now a big Mexican food buffet with decorations possibly left over from good old boy hunting trips after the Cask-and-Cleave-it-to-Beaver days when the restaurant was the PEE TROLL MAUSELEUM Club (Petroleum Club). Oh yeah, anyone who was cool used to work the Cask and Cleavage, and goodness knows what Lords of Bakersfield haunted the old desserts still wearing shorts and serving up the goodies at the old Cleaver naughty boy countertops when a country club type atmosphere.
Since the carpet looks like you’re in one of those off-the-main-Strip casinos, I was half expecting a one-armed bandit room for money hunters, complete with smoking. You know, if Bakersfield were Las Vegas, the entire bar would consist of rows of slot machines for drunks to spill their tequila on and lose their money.
And if you think I’m full of shit, just go to Vegas and hit up the Silver Nugget, the Poker Palace, and then top it off with a trip for the biggest goddam slice of breakfast Texas ham you can imagine, right down at Jerry’s Nugget north on Las Vegas Boulevard. I’m not lying, it’s about three inches thick.
El Cazador was surprisingly delicious. I’m not one for Mexican buffets. They’re usually roadkill made to look like someone slopped in grease and chile peppers. But not El Cazador’s buffet…
We ate a few chips first. Paprika on the chips? Nice touch. Salsa? A bit doctored as if bulk purchased, but flavorful. We hit the buffet and I skipped over the vegetables, except for marinated carrots, chiles and onions. Looked good. Tasted even better.
I forgot to take a photo of my plate: here's chingpea's
I slopped on a nice helping of rice: fluffy, not sticky, and not undercooked. I added some beans, chile verde, tasty chicken fajitas and a really nice-looking tamale that may have been bulk purchased. Unless Pepe’s grandmother was wrapping them in the back I would expect most restaurants to use a Mexican food vendor to purchase some of their bulk items like tamales. Yet they were good, pork I think. Sorry, I was so hungry that I inhaled the tamale without considering that I was supposed to be writing a food review. Try a little chile verde sauce on your tamale for a nice twist.
I did add some tasty Mexican corn bread to my plate. Now, this may be the white in me, but I prefer my cornbread to be firm, and not a slushy that I can drink. It’s customary for many Mexican dishes to have a softer form of a corn bread treat. And that’s OK too. It’s just not what I prefer. I know that MISFIT Ska King was all over his corn meal. You’d think he was brought up in that Central Valley farm town of McFarland. Oh yeah, he was. Willieboy “The Gringo” shied away from the corn mush as did chingpea. She showed up too and got to ride in Willieboy’s fancy art deco middle-aged white man mobile. Hell yeah I’m jealous!
Now get off your duff and hit up El Cazador. The folks there are just as nice as the food…
Chips and Salsa: ***1/2 Food: *** Service: *** Atmosphere: **
Guest Bandito, El Bakotopia Ska King:
Seeing as I am probably the most Mexican out of we three kings, allow me to school ustedes (you,) on the fine art of Mexican food dining.
I always say, that if the chips and salsa are fresh, the rest will be good. First impressions count and the small details are muy importante (very important!) In my opinion, the chips and salsa are probably the most important part of the Mex restaurant experience!
By the time NL picked me up for lunch, our other reviewers, Mike and Chingpea had already dug into the tapas (chips and salsa,) as we arrived. As soon as I strolled in, I did the same…Good salsa, and the chips were still crunchy! They earned one star right away with me.
Of course, we didn’t wanna waste anytime, so we jumped at the buffet. I’ve eaten here a few times, so I was pretty familiar with what they had going on. As usual, I was right: enchiladas, rice, beans, fajitas, and salads.
As NL and Mike pointed out, they did have the squishy sweet corn meal stuff (similar to El Torito, but wayyy better, I HATE El Torito,) and I piled that stuff on top of the rest of my plate. In true Mexican style, I piled everything on top of each other, paying no mind that different entrees were mixing with each other.
I noticed some bowls near the buffet trays, along with a separate serving tray with cilantro, onion, oregano, and limes……no way….MENUDO ON MONDAY???
What kind of Mexican joint is this? You don’t serve menudo on Monday, man…ahem…I mean, hombre’!
I went back to the table and started chowing on my first pile. Pretty standard “safe” Mexican fare, but not quite as blasphemous as Mexicali, which in my opinion is Mexi-can’t, not, and never will be…Maybe El Cazador is hoping for a picture of George Bush eating in their restaurant like at Mexicali West? Just kidding El C…
El Cazador has improved since my previous visits. I’ve been there before, and a few times, the service blew. Today though, the server was polite, not pushy, and seemed to be pretty observant from afar, the way I like it…Stay outta my plato, vato!
Mexican restaurant lunch buffets are always a sure thing, as long you never expect much other than the usual staple foods. The El Cazador buffet is no different from the many others I’ve been to including La Mina on Oak, or Anitas (the worst buffet and service,) on California. I did really like the fresh marinated vegetables they had next to the macaroni-mexi-mystery salad.
After I finished off my plate, I headed back for the menudo. I didn’t have a hangover, but it sounded good on a Monday... I filled my bowl, threw in the onion, oregano and lime, and went to town…Wow! This menudo was actually really good. Big-ups to Cazador for that! There’s no way it was the canned stuff either. Menudo takes a while to cook, and you can tell when the “canned shortcut,” has been taken.
As a Mexican who’s been raised on the real thing, it’s hard for me to love Mexican lunch buffets, so I have to plead the fifth on breaking it down too much. There is no comparison to my mom’s food, but I will tell you this…if I was hungover, El Cazador would definitely hit the spot.
The décor is kinda blah, mainly leftovers from the Cask and Cleaver / Petroleum club days. The animal heads on the walls would’ve been more authentic had they been chickens, stuffed roosters, or goats, maybe even a taxidermy crab, but rams? No way…Mexicans don’t hunt rams, they like chivos…
Chips and Salsa: *** (Good first impression) Food: **3/4 (the same safe and sane stuff, but menudo was great.) Service: *** (Didn’t bug, and that was good enough for me. However it was a buffet, and they didn’t have to work for a tip.) Atmosphere: ** (It was clean, but needs more color. Frida Kahlo would never step in this place.)
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Michael "Willieboy" Willis is a grizzled 46 year old graphic artist. His studio, coincidentally called "Willis Design Studios", has been operating in Bakersfield for the last 26 years. His 15 minutes of fame came in 1997 when he co-authored a best selling book about webpage design titled "Web Pages That Suck". The rest remains a mystery. His personal page is www.willieboy.com.
Matt "The Ska King" Munoz had headed up the infamous Latino ska band, Mento Buru for more than 15 years. He now heads up Bakotopia and has some kind of fancy title with MAS Magazine out of Bakersfield, California.
USA Today within the past few days listed the top ten scariest places on the planet. I just went to two of them: The grave of Edgar Allan Poe and the Exorcist Steps.
The Exorcist Steps are close to Georgetown University. I will be writing more about them, but let me say that where I slept that night in an old townhouse was next door to a house built in the 1700s... It was maybe five houses away from those famed movie steps... Was I scared? After having just toured the Healy building on Georgetown campus, knowing that William Peter Blatty hobnobbed with Jesuits there in the making of the film (he attended Georgetown), how could I not feel a little troubled? I mean, there's even a Jesuit graveyard on campus...
The Exorcist steps were very steep. I can imagine Blatty must of thought this area perfect for the Satanic death of a priest in his book and film... I imagined maniacal priests vomiting green blood and chasing me from the bottom all the way to the top of those stairs (keep checking back, as I will be adding video of the stairs). I indeed ran up them and was very winded upon reaching the top.
I had wandered to Edgar Allan Poe’s grave at midnight. I shot video of his grave and didn’t even realize the ghost-white stone I peered at through the fence marked his buried bones. All I knew was that I saw a huge marble square-shaped tombstone with Poe engraved on it. A siren came roaring down the street—my signal to get the hell out of there. I still had a ten-minute walk back to the hotel. When you have goosebumps, that walk feels like an hour.
I looked over my shoulder the entire time.
I wound along shadows of streets, past hissing manhole covers and people passing in the night. Yes, there were many people wandering into alleyways, down the street, or just leaning against walls. Where were some of them going? I don’t know. Midnight streets in downtown Baltimore crawl with life. I don’t know if it was because it was close to Halloween, or if such street stalking was normal to the inhabitants of this early American city.
An old hospital stood close by. Brick buildings loomed and cast shadows onto the streets and onto the faces of people slinking along sidewalks…
In the morning I had a brief breakfast. I first made my way to the Inner Harbor. I took a walk on an old navy sailing ship. The Constellation once sailed the African coast and ran down slave ships, sometimes freeing the inhabitants who’d been packed on board in a deathly state of humanity: people wallowing in feces and death—practically stacked like cord wood... the American sloop to the rescue.
Afterwards I crept my way back to Poe’s grave. Forget standing outside the fence of Westminster Hall. I wanted to wander the graveyard and see what else I could find.
I also explored Washington DC at the midnight hour—talk about creepy. My guide there showed me where bats hover in Munster building glee right by the Whitehouse. I haven’t even had the nerve to tell you about that yet. Baltimore, however, is creepy even in the daytime—especially Westminster Hall.
Flowers and trinkets rest on Poe's grave
Just inside the Westminster gates
When I arrived around eleven in the morning, the gate had long been open. Who opened the gate? Beats me. The only way in Westminster Hall is through a doorway that you can’t open. You have to ring a bell. I didn’t ring the bell. But I did sneak right in to see Poe’s grave standing like a stark white beacon. An artistic rendition of his face had been carved into the marker. Dried flowers had been laid on all four sides of a ledge on the gravestone. People had left trinkets: coins, a plastic sun face, orange Tic Tacs. I left a dime.
I left a dime...
What do all the details mean on Poe's grave? Why is there a period after his name? I felt very alone...
This interesting map shows the entire graveyard. Poe's grave is in the upper left. You'll notice dark lines mark the shapes of two buildings in the middle of the grounds, which means, there are catacombs.
Westminster Hall above Poe's grave on a cold day...
As I wandered around the graveyard I noticed there was only one other person there. Was he a tourist? Was he spying on me? Was he some maniacal English professor on a pilgrimage? I have no idea. I gave a brief "Hello," but he soon disappeared. I continued on a footpath around the church where I saw some of the freakiest grave markers I've ever seen: one that was on Ripley's Believe It or Not, a grave on four pillars that sagged as if sad and melancholy. There were prominent folk, families dead from disease, and weird markers and crypts.
A strangely bent marker
I followed this footpath around the graveyard...
Barred windows hide murky catacombs...
This footpath creaked beneath my feet
Following the creaking footpath...
This is the original spot in the grave where Poe was buried. Notice the beak from the raven is broken.
Plants grow from the upper portion of a crypt. I took this image from atop two flights of fire escape stairs...
This is one of the strangest moments. I thought I was seeing a reflection. Instead I saw glowing lights from catacombs within. I made my way back around the building to a door...
I have video of the door to the catacombs. The handle was loosened, but the door was strangely locked from the inside. I peeked in a crack and could see graves in an underground crypt. They were going to give tours Halloween night. Oh if I could only stay a few more days to meet some ghost hunters, and find my way into the Westminster Hall catacombs...
The strangest moment at Poe's grave was not seeing his grave, though when I touched the carving of his face I think I felt some kind of cold chill (not kidding). It was a cold morning anyways. The stone was freezing to my fingertips. But even more chilling than his grave was a part of the graveyard that sat beneath a portion of the church.
What is this strange deathly bed beneath a portion of Westminster?
I wasn't sure if I could walk under but did so anyways. I saw a few cigarette butts in the dirt. And I wanted to see as much of the cemetery as I could. In this partly hidden area below the church sat a grave surrounded by a short fence. As I crept closer I discovered on top of the grave rested a broken portion of a tombstone, and on top of that, a tattered bible held in place by a brick.
I picked up the brick and lifted up a section of the bible. I was a little too creeped out to see if anyone had scrawled on the pages. I put the brick back in its resting place and snapped a photo. I'm sure you'll all think I placed the bible and brick there. But I didn't. Let me assure you that I have chills even typing these words, and that USA Today was not kidding around when they wrote Poe's grave was a scary place.
As I left, I noticed I was no longer by myself. A dissheveled mother and daughter peered at gravestones, and a cop even wandered into the graveyard. I made my way up to the church door and snapped a few more photos. Eventually I wandered away, wondering if I would have a little bit of Poe in me...
The book on the grave marker, on the grave...
The tattered bible...
A final chill... as if touching the face of Poe...
Matt Munoz gets bakocreepy by entering a house of Bakersfield goth punk ghosts...
Couple takes ghostly decor to year-round enjoyment.. By Matt Munoz / MÁS staff / Bakotopia.com
Nestled among the conservative architecture and well-manicured lawns of southwest Bakersfield, the Adame residence is a true Halloween treat for the eyes and senses.
But unless you’re invited inside, you’d never know.
Beginning with a gothic-inspired main door of castle Dracula appeal, the Adame home is the stuff of sweet dreams — make that, nightmares.
“Halloween is the only holiday we celebrate,” said Kathy Adame, 48, smiling as she plays host to a number of guests visiting during a rare, midweek open house counting down the days to Oct. 31.
Her husband, Moe Adame, 43, agrees.
“It’s a fun, no-obligation holiday. You don’t have to buy people anything, and you can just be yourself,” he said.
For the curious, the Adame’s casa is not another, run-of-the-mill decorated tract home covered in typical cardboard skeletons and harvest time scarecrows. Rather, it is the embodiment of the Halloween spirit.
And not just in October, but everyday.
“Our home is a reflection of our personalities. We like the macabre,” Kathy said.
Entering the Adame’s tidy, main front room, guests are either shocked or fascinated by the numerous horror film inspired art pieces, collected by the couple over the years.
Gargoyles, a church pulpit, medieval-style candle holders and a torch, a “coffin” wall they built themselves, and a vampire killing kit, to name few.
“Most of the things in the house were purchased in LA,” said Moe, pointing to different ghoulish items hanging or standing throughout the house. “Some of our favorite stores are Dark Delicacies in Hollywood and Necromance.”
Despite the curious thoughts that may race through the heads of visitors, the Adames ultimately want people to know that neither themselves nor their home are a threat to their neighbors.
Just when you think all the alt press news talk has died, in comes more. Rob Shock has his own take on the events. He liked their title of "Elitist Press", and admits not liking "Paperback Writer" as a title for a blog. He also gives a nice take on thebuzzblogs.com, a conglomerate of local blogs that I don't do much to maintain, even though it's still a good resource. I gave my two cents on why I think my idea of a blog community failed in the comments of his entry titled, "Outside the Fishbowl: The Elitist Press/N.L. Belardes Throwdown." It's a good read. Oops, I should add that I should have started a multi-user blog. Dumb on my part.
Doesn't mean that others won't succeed. The Elitist Press sure could have a chance at online success if they would have listened to Howard Owens. Howard gives another bit of attention to a multi-user alt news idea in, "Local writers, listen up!".
Personally, I don't think local writers care about blogging in a blog community. It's going to take one person who can get someone to build a blog like the multi-user blog Howard mentions in his entry. Howard writes, "Ever since the Blackboard went down, I’ve been telling any local writer who will listen — start a group blog, start a group blog, start a group blog."
I should add that Howard Owens changed his page layout. As a result, the comments are missing... what's the deal, Howard?
Anyway...
I tried an aggregate community. That's different from a multi-user blog. I give reasons why that failed on Rob Shock's page. Multi-user is the way to go. I've talked to a few people about one. Hopefully someone will start, or maybe I'll just add a few team members here on Paperback Writer and call it a day...
More on the big throwdown. Aaron Mauldin of theatreaddict.com tag teamed his way into the alt news controversy with a big write-up, I mean, BIG. Check out his piece titled, "Theatre Addict on The Elitist Press...R.I.P.?"
And another follow-up mention at the end of his "Get Out!" ramble where he mentions the Elitist Press has now disappeared from myspace.com. I guess that's the end of that.
Oh wait. I have one final mention, and that would have to be Heath Dobbler's inaugural fairwell piece that he sent me. Well, it was supposed to be his inaugural piece for the Elitis Press. But since they're sadly down for the count, it will have to suffice as a lonely fairwell:
The Moron Parade - By Heath Dobbler
I was contacted earlier in the month by John Jones, the co-managing editor for The Elitist Press. He asked me if I would like to contribute to their fledgling form of “alternative local media” by offering a conservative punk’s opinion on certain going-ons in Bakersfield .
I was kind of hesitant at first. It has become very apparent to me, that being married with two kids, (another on the way) holding down a full time job, running a blog and playing in a part time punk band, seldom leaves you time for much else. So, I thought about it for a bit and then did what I felt any man would do when faced with a like situation. I kicked my wife out of the house, and put my kids up for grabs on E-Bay. I know it sounds cruel, but the decision was a no brainer really. Besides, who can afford child support these days?
Anyhow, aside from all seriousness… Here is a bit about me.
I’m a lifetime resident of Bakersfield , though I did spend a couple of lengthy stints in Klamath Falls , Oregon during my youth. I am a dropout of the Free Will Baptist Church, and a graduate of North High School. I never attended College on any level, and probably never will. I have three vices in life that I tend to visit on a daily basis… cigarettes, beer, and music. I was the bassist and co-front man for the now defunct pop punk band “3 Cent Nickle”, and currently handle bass and front man duties for The IN-Denials of the same afore mentioned genre. I’m a heckler of most any and all dolts willing to display their knack for stupidity on a public stage and lean towards the conservative side in manners of politics. I do not profess to be highly educated while in midst of a debate, I just approach the randomness of shit from the realm of common sense.
I don’t know where this column will go, or what road(s) it may or may not travel. I deal with a lot of bullshit in life. I’m 100 % sure many of you do as well… So why not discuss it?
I titled this column “The Moron Parade” with this thought in mind…
“What slogan best describes the IMAGINATIVE, hustle and bustle of Bakersfield life”?
Let’s face it, we are currently the biggest bunch of wanna-be Hollywoodians this side of the Grape Vine. Maybe it’s from the recent surge of L.A. migration to our dirt lot, who knows? We have drive by shootings, a few mainstream removed actors residing on our hilltops, a desire to erect night club after night club, venue promoters asking bands to sell a desired amount of tickets to play in a less than desirable amount of basement space, plastic surgeons, humvees, an enormous amount of varying religions/ cultural backgrounds, and controversial politicians with controversial motives. Sounds L.A. enough right? Hell, we’re so in awe of the L.A. life, that we have at times, been willing to let them bus in loads of their own shit just so that we can feel somehow connected to them.
We have even gotten ourselves into the ebb and flow of public demonstrations as of late.
The recent rise in protests and rallies in this once conservative town have been the topic of much debate… Too much of a topic in all actuality, but what should we expect? We’re always behind in the trend. When we do decide to get on par with the masses, we almost always over-do it. We’re no longer the city which once took acknowledgment in it’s oil production, agriculture development, hometown pride and small town life. We’ve become a congregation of uptight citizens constantly attempting to out do the Joneses and it’s finally affected us enough to warrant our renaming the city’s explanatory Anthem. “ Bakersfield , Life as it should be”. Pretty narcissistic seeming ain’t it. Mucho kudos to our Board of Supervisors and County planners.
I feel there are things that need to be brought up, explored and debated. Relationships, Politics, Religion, Life… Whatever the case may be, you may find a little bit of it all right here. I hope to entertain, eye open and if need be, piss off a lot of folks here in order to get people to pay attention to what’s really going on in their surrounding Universe. It’s your community after all, why not help shape it?
Raise your hand if you were in attendance at the recent Anti-Bush Rally in downtown Bakersfield earlier this month… Now, put it down and return to your seat. Here is your gift wrapped tird. Thanks for participating, this demonstration is hereby over.
Questions, Concerns, Comments, Accusations, and or Suggestions? Visit me here…
A little while ago I sat watching the World Series at a little corner bar in Baltimore. Before that I was in Baltimore's Little Italy, chowing on linguini and shrimp, calamari, and some good red wine. I was a little tipsy.
Earlier I realized that Poe's grave was likely within walking distance of where I was staying. I'd walked past the Inner Harbor, past firemen securing a gas leak. I saw old sea vessels, and eventually watched St. Louis take a 4-3 lead in the ballgame. "I gotta go," I said to the fellas I was with. "I think I want to go see Poe's grave."
It was nearly midnight.
The streets of downtown Baltimore at midnight are creepy to say the least. I wound my way beneath a huge tower, tiptoed around people sleeping on the sidewalk and headed past the Hippodrome as people passed along the sidewalk.
Eventually I found West Fayette Street where Poe's grave rests in Westminster Hall Cemetery. The gates were closed, but that didn't stop me from being extremely creeped out...
I wasn't sure which grave was his and didn't stay very long to find out. I'll be back in the morning to grasp the mystery.
I love taking photos of fights. Reminds me of this blog lately.
There's even a video test post over there. While Hectic Films is going to film a lot of hockey, I'll also be dabbling there and on Paperback Writer with video uploads from a camera phone...
Got a nice email from Georgetown University's CS today:
paperback writer has become required reading here in the "we're not a state" state.
Always good to be recognized.
As some of you know, "The Elitist Press accuses N.L. of working for Bakotopia" also appeared on Bakotopia.com. They also chose to run all photos.
Joe Simpson, who works for the Californian, but strangely didn't want his photo taken at the second meeting of The Elitist Press, has a second response to my article that can originally be found in the comments of my posting of the article on bakotopia:
Sat Oct 21, 2006 13:33:56 PDT This is in response to the lies and exaggerations being spread by N.L. Belardes, and all 4 of his friends. My name is Joe Simpson…. Yes the very “Pappa Joe” from the lame article posted by the morons mentioned above. Yes- I do work for the Bakersfield Californian, and I have for many years. No- I do not work for The Elitist Press. However, I know most of the people on the staff. They asked me to come and share my expertise at their meeting. I’ve been in the print and design business for almost 12 years now. A captive audience and free pizza.. why not. The twisting of the truth in this so called article are too many to mention and too ridiculous to even to dignify with a response. In fact to a reasonable person they are laughable. As far as Nick goes, he was not invited because of his attitude at the first meeting. Before you monkeys start flinging poo at me again, I DO NOT DO THE INVITING. I was a guest speaker. From what I was told, at the first meeting Nick made it clear he was his own media and that Bakotopia was going to print soon. He also made statements like, “I am Bakotopia.” This whole big deal is a bunch of, “You’re not playing my way. I’m taking my toys and going home!” junior high crap. They didn’t want Nick and his endless self promotion. He rants about all of the egos in the room. There wasn’t room in there for anyone’s ego but his own. As for The Elitist Press, I’ve been told that they are not going to print. It seams Bakersfield is not yet ready for an alt press that wants to do more than cover local bands and blog fights. Too bad, they had a lot of good writers in that room. This will be my only response… now you can go about your poo throwing.
And my response:
I probably said something more hurtful Matt, like, "I took over Bakotopia." But Bakotopia is set up that way. You can battle for the most friends, you can add all kind of media and promote, promote, promote... and yes, I did say that Bakotopia was one of the entities who could and should go to print. Why not, Bakotopia is an alt news source. It would be a natural progression in what Bakotopia is doing.
I also mentioned in that first meeting that I heard another group might be going to print. I didn't follow up.
Why did Joe want his identity hid?
Why be so paranoid?
Sure seems like an entire group of people are worried and allowed their world to crash because of one little blogger calling them elitists.
My source revealed to me that people for that press accused me of working for Bakotopia. I set the record straight through my blog because The Elitist Press already ceased contact with me except through Black Dog who said himself that his ideas weren't being heard. So how could my concerns about who I didn't work for ever fall on those deaf ears... by expressing myself.
I've stated on my blog how I discussed the power of nlbelardes.com. It's not boasting. It's simple: it can be used as a cross promotional tool. That's the power of blogging. And I am my own press.
Joe sure didn't have a problem with being employed by the Californian and helping (wink wink) the Elitist Press, and practically running the second meeting. So what was the problem with me being with another press: my own.
Instead, Joe wants to focus now on what? Poo throwing? What exactly have I said wasn't true? He claims I speak untruths. Well whatever he counters I will just say "My source said otherwise".
What it comes down to is the first meeting: was N.L. a pompous ass to some weird degree that meant it wasn't worth inviting me back? Not to mention they didn't have the balls to tell me not to show up. Why?
Sounds to me like this is another response to save face because he was exposed. Black Dog tried that by calling me a muckraker, even though over the phone he never called me one... I countered, and now where is his blog? Disappeared...
All of this because of a single blogger?
But they're a whole group!
It's the uncivil bully accusation all over again. I got the same reaction from the Californian for picking on Belton. I have more respect for the Californian. They didn't close shop. They built Bakotopia even better than it was, and Bakersfield.com is a damn Central Valley blog empire.
And let me just say that I admire the tenacity of Steve Swenson, their web moderator, who can battle and not back down like the Elitist Press.
Throwing poo is what monkeys like Joe did at my back when I walked from his monkey cage...
And more from me regarding Joe Simpson's post:
Lies being spread by four friends? Sorry, but what the heck is Joe talking about? It is pretentious of him to continue to be a paranoid jerk who is probably making the Bakersfield Californian wonder why he won't just open up and talk to them about his split personality.
Joe's wife was running The Elitist Press. And he didn't try to get her to change the name or her hatred for his employer? Because that's a lot of what I heard at meeting #1: hatred for the Californian. Shouldn't he have consulted against such?
I ignored the hate and turned that into: COMPETE!
I spoke about ways to compete in multi-user blogs. MULTI-USER! And I offered to help that blog gather strength by cross-promoting through mine.
I guess when Joe offered to come and talk and dictate regarding his wife's paper he didn't stop to think that there was a conflict of interest, especially when the anti-Californian ranting started up in the second meeting.
I wonder if he signed a contract with the Californian regarding the level of participation he was doing while speaking for The Elitist Press in meeting #2. Not sure consultants should run conversations in journalistic settings about story ideas. Shouldn't he have just been speaking with the main heads of state at The Elitist Press?
Sure looked to me like he was representing them. Otherwise, why would he spend time shooting me down? Oh yeah, I wasn't invited. He had formed some kind of kooky notion that I was just about me...
Whatever.
The Elitist Press are dead and that's sad. Just shows they had problems from within. It's not like I'm shutting my blog down just because I'm getting hatemail from them. Hatemail is natural. Not everyone will agree with you. Read the Californian blogs. It gets wayyyyyy more vicious over there... and yet the Californian isn't scared to shut their doors either...
Where John Jones may one day bring his infamous Black Dog blog back, I can say that one local blogger to the Bakersfield area has come back with prose of fury.
Jesse Rivera is one of the pioneers of Bakersfield scene. His blog, Illpressed had quite a few readers and landed him recognition as a respected area writer in the blogosphere.
He's been writing Mexican on a Diet, but is now back with illasever.com's "Valley Scrive - Viva The Ill Press", a Central Valley blog that will hopefully land him recognition as a diversified writer and blogger...
John Jones, one of my favorite bloggers (a great writer), fresh from his apparent spat with N.L. over the whole Elitist Press thing (which I found more humorous than harmful, though if you're directly involved, I can see how you'd get emotionally wrapped up in it), has taken down his blog.
I take this as rather sudden, so I don't know what precipitated it. Just last night John was calling me about something related to his blog -- sounded like it was an ongoing concern last night, but a minute ago I got an e-mail from him that alerted me that something was up.
Even before I opened his blog, I suspected John was hinting that he wasn't blogging any longer -- I told him in reply: Don't stop. If you want a career as a writer, a blog these days is essential.
I've stopped blogging a couple of times. Both times it was a mistake. You can say breaks are good, and while they might refresh and help you re-envision your blog, traffic never recovers to its former state.
I responded in a comment on Howard Owens' blog:
I didn't have a spat with Black Dog. I misunderstood him one evening. Then he clarified that he was supporting me, and that it was his friends who had animosity. I think he felt caught in the middle.
I think that came through in my article. His reaction to what I wrote by possibly diffusing his own personal situation and calling me a muckraker, that was just point/counterpoint... me countering what he had written.
I don't hate Black Dog at all. He's a good writer, and will be a great historian, as long as he realizes that you shouldn't destroy history, especially when you're a part of it.
For history grad students, Bakersfield blogs are a treasure trove. 15 years from now a student at CSUB or somewhere else in the Central Valley could write a thesis simply based on mining Bakersfield blogs, which do tell a tale.
But as bloggers destroy their own history... that hurts the overall work and historical puzzle some history student may be putting together one day.
I won't even write an article about this... if Black Dog feels he needs to take down his public forum, that's on him. But he shouldn't have. He had loyal readers.
Maybe he'll start a new blog.
If I pulled my blog down just because of some negative press I would have done it 50 times already...
You’d think I was Sonicrusk attempting to take over a Monopoly board. Oh, now you want to talk Napoleon complex. Have you seen Sonicrusk laying waste on games.com, right out of the Bakersfield blogger backyard?
Talk about evil intentions.
I even challenged him. You know what he said? Go online. He wants to play in his backyard, in his cheater territory where he lays waste to people like me who just happen to like the wimpy light blue territories and old tattered boards with real faces arguing over how money changes hands with a drunk banker.
Fucker. I know what he’s up to. He’s a goddam Napoleon in the making.
And N. Frank Daniels. He’s up to shit too like some kind of crazed monopolistic king of the Internet lit riot. He wrote on my website,
We are all in the same battle. We have to fight that battle for a conceivably long time to come. Fuck this in-fighting bullshit. Make it work. And if the egos encountered are too big, then move on. But I will tell you my personal philosophy on it: the person who finds a way to unite all these warring little factions is the person who is going to make the greatest impact, whether locally in Bakersfield or globally on the world wide web.
Maybe he’s just trying to take over. He could be one of those Napoleon fucks—self-promoting, taking over territory, duping the masses, and fucking with your senses. Better poison him too.
I don’t trust him because he knows JAMES FREY! He talked about him as if they're sucking each other's cocks! And James Frey duped us all. Oprah said it. And you all know she’s the real life Oracle from this Matrix you and I live in. If she says James Frey is a worthless piece of shit for writing a fake memoir and calling it a memoir, then, shit, she’s right. Hang him.
She’s Park Place and Boardwalk. She’s what everyone wants to own.
Bonnie Hearn Hill, Cindy Wathen, THE SWAMI (Hazel Dixon-Cooper) of the Yosemite Writers. Napoleons. Matt Munoz. Conga Napoleon.
And me, starting on such a tiny scale. Me with my tiny book and tiny pecker, and trying to make up, to compensate with a mad love for that nappy headed bitch who somehow sees more in Pedro than he does me? Fuck him.
...I think blasting a publication and its stories before it's gotten a chance to print, shows not only signs of unprofessionalism, but also insecurity in your ideas and a major case of Napoleon complex. -Mistidawn
Oh God, why do I have to blur the lines between narrative and journalism? It’s doing me in. I’m boring people. But I must take over. I have to.
Everyone is right! I have to conquer newspapers with bad names, and N. Frank and Sonicrusk and Oprah! I have to conquer Baskin Robbins and Krispy Kreme! (I did conquer KK! They’re out of this town! I fucked them over royally. You just never knew…)
And Bakersfield, this little bitch of a town, I have now had my chance to take over an alternative press before it went to print! I could have done it, you know. But I failed in Russia once again. I could have played those fuckers like Sonicrusk plays snot-nosed cyber sluts at a virgin Monopoly tournament.
But now, alas, I am on my island of Elba only to escape and be forced to St. Helena Oildale, where in the old Honky Tonk prisons I can listen to country karaoke and scrawl my last vestiges of poison prose onto bathroom walls: I must take over everything and everyone I touch. I’m a walking dildo. Grab me and pump your vagina or ass with me and I… I will tell everyone that I made the world orgasm!
Or maybe madness will set in once again!
I will bully my way through bad bullying jokes and drive over the geeks of alt writers and squash them where they lay: at beerless pizza joints where a punker eats calzone and gets ignored…
I will show them. I will show them all!
But alas I have an ally, even greater than the lies of N. Frank Daniels and Sonicrusk’s fake monopolistic smile…
That Howard Owens. That failure! That cocksucker of Bakersfield! He passed through and pretended to take a dive, only to head East, to a greater job. I must take him over, even though he wrote:
I love this: N.L. Belardes, who has been a thorn in the side of the local MSM for a couple of years, the ultimate media gadfly, is being slighted by a group of would-be alternative journalists because of his ties to Bakotopia, the TBC-owned social networking site.
The deeper layer there is Bakotopia is supposed to be alternative itself, but clearly has established a reputation among some locals as just another mainstream game. I love the irony.
The would-be alternative journalists are trying to replace the now defunct Blackboard with "The Elistist Press" a name N.L. does like:
The name of the paper had already been decided before the first meeting: The Elitist Press. I get it. It’s some joke that really states that mainstream media are the elitists showering down their perspectives of the universe on innocent readers. Kind of silly and stupid—definitely arrogant. A trap waiting to slam shut on itself perhaps? I think so. For instance, what if the tiny Elitist Press became successful, or mainstream? Would they change their name? “People aren’t going to get the joke,” I said to Black Dog. “You’re going to take heat.”
Black Dog is John Jones, one of my all-time favorite bloggers.
Read the comments on N.L.'s post -- quite a controversy is breaking out over The Elitist Press before it even launches.
I still say they should do it all online as a sort of group blog. From the description N.L. gives of the meetings, they're all still thinking very old media -- the meeting sounds a lot like many MSM budget meetings all over the land -- instead of just going out and doing it and filing as much shit online as they can, and letting the readers decide what's important. They're thinking about their own egos as journalists instead of putting the audience first. The ultimate ironey.
Meanwhile, BD isn't happy with N.L.'s post.
And Blackdog. He claims I’m not Napoleon as has been claimed by someone from The Elitist Press who sees me for who I am! He speaks out of the side of his mouth in phone conversations saying one thing, and now calling me a simple minded muckraker looking for traffic rankings.
How dare he!
This isn’t about traffic!
This is about taking over!
A muckraker? Ohh, how the other half lives, Black Doggy. You hide online behind your real name. And you’re a blogger. Such a low upon lows.
I shall in the name of Sonicrusk, sink your lies just as soon as I can get Napoleon to stop paying so much attention to Pedro!
*For the record: Black Dog, in further response to what you wrote on howardowens.com about me being a muckraker just trying to gain traffic, the piece you just read could be construed as muckraking journalism as can my second post, "Writers for The Elitist Press accuses N.L. of slander". My first post, "The Elitist Press accuses N.L. of working for Bakotopia" was straight up blog news, no different than any other blog news I have posted. Time and again I get support from people who read my blog news, until I shine my no-holds-barred voice on some bullshit that might be coming from my very supporters, or something they are tied to. Isn't that the best kind of news? News that isn't part of a good ol boy network that will ignore and not publish if it shines a light on the good ol boys? Just because you write the news doesn't mean you're exempt from the news, especially if you're writing the news and hiding. That's a contradiction. There are many contradictions within this little group who wants to write newspapers. Working for the Californian while working with a press who claims hatred toward them is a contradiction. I would have pointed that out whether with The Elitist Press or not. And it says a lot about my comittment that I would have written great news stories and still put my name beside their stupid name. Of course I was already strategizing how I would have stepped out of those flames as soon as the ship started burning through the atmosphere. But instead of lending a guiding hand and being inspiration for writers, I wasn't. And that's OK too. Just shows narrow-mindedness, conspiracy thinking, and failure on the part of those running the paper.
Yes, hopefully they learn something. I'm sure one aspect they learned is the power of the blog. The conversations here on Paperback Writer should teach them to listen to the changing world of media. People came to talk. That's conversation journalism at its best. The high rankings of my posts on their paper will haunt them, but it can be in a good way if they play their cards right.
Sure, they can become more secretive now, more inclusive. It will just make them look more elitist, no matter what they name their paper. They should talk constructively, openly. Obviously they wouldn't reach out until I made my voice heard. The Net is powerful when you build a powerful engine. And it's free and easy to do.
And since they wouldn't listen, and pre-judged in their pizza meetings, they now learned that voices in small places can reverberate on a national scale through the RSS-built Internet and beyond. I guarantee conversations have leapt from computer screens to coffee houses.
What people do with their voices, time and lives makes a difference. People listen, and ideas are heard. The Elitist Press, whatever they become, if they're smart, will take advantage of all the talk and become something better. People are listening and waiting all over... if they fold now, they won't have the guts to restart under another banner.
Why not? Because likely they will fear one simple article about them again, which no matter their name will take over page rankings when folks google them... I'm just one writer. They're a group. There is power in numbers. And if I am meaningless to them, they shouldn't feel intimidated by the power of this blog that flies under my name.
And yes, Blackdog, traffic and readership is what any decent writer wants. Otherwise, why have The Elitist Press at all? Might as well just write emails to each other and masturbate over them.
Yes, it's true. I have been accused once again. Bakersfield's newest alt news source writers are already roping my feet to a wooden post, screaming, "Burn the Witch! Slander! Take down photos! Model release! Model release!"
(If you want an alternative with music, you can always click on Bakotopia's link to the article).
I'm thinking I could have been an actual art piece in Jen Raven And Jenn Williams "Burn The Witch" Show...
I'm sure The Elitist Press would like that.
Instead of being open to opinions about them, and ideas on how they could grow with a multi-user blog, and powered with help through other local news sources, they started their newspaper in whispers of distrust and dishonesty. I supposedly was out to get them.
No wonder they wouldn't eat the pizza I bought them. Probably thought it was laced with truth serum.
Well, I just reported what I saw, and not even all of that. I was told plenty off the record. I'm so tempted just to hint. I'm so tempted just to tease. I'm so tempted to... just move on...
Yes, Friday night is opening night at the Rabobank Arena for Condors hockey. Do yourself a favor and forget the fighting on nlbelardes.com for a moment to go see some real fisticuffs on the ice...
Now for some strange hockey talk. Yes, I was in a conversation about why I hate the Las Vegas Wranglers when karma taught me a lesson. Funny how karma does that to you: when you say you don't like someone behind their back, suddenly that very person, or shall I say, ENTIRE HOCKEY TEAM shows up to see if you're brave enough to talk shop...
yikes.
Read Matildakay's report, Is that the Las Vegas Wranglers at the next table?:
You wouldn’t expect to look up from your dinner plate at the Olive Garden and see the Las Vegas Wranglers seated at the next table. But that is exactly what happened tonight in Condorstown!
I was having dinner with NL, my girlfriend ‘D’, Dirty Spanglish and Dude on the Ice and we were talking about the Condors Opening Season games this weekend when suddenly I noticed a bunch of men being seated at the table next to us. They looked like they were all in their 20’s, some of them were even HOT. And then we noticed that they were all wearing shirts that said Vegas Wranglers...
The insanity never ends on Paperback Writer. Check out this short film the boys at Hectic Films made for Noveltown's entry in the recent Assemblage Art Show Downtown. It's a great piece of disturbing film.
One of my favorite blogs is Mexican On A Diet. JR is a great writer/blogger. He says how he feels, and as a blogger on a diet, says a lot about how he feels about food. JR is also a lover of the local music scene. A Bakersfield blog pioneer, he was writing about local bands long before I hit the scene. Here's his latest post about his diet days and a recent dinner he had with Matildakay and I:
So I went to dinner the other night with NL and Matildakay. "Wanna meet us at Olive Garden?" MKaY asked me over the celly one recent Saturday night after work. We all had made planes to chase the moon later on that night and we needed to fill our fat bellies before making the trek. "Cool, I'm on my way" I said.
Olive Garden yes, bomb! I love that place. Salad, bread sticks, The Giro De Italia Sampler was already on my mind, then maybe some more bread sticks oh and Parmesan cheese graded into my salad right in front of me. Yep I could grub me some Olive Garden I was thinking as I sped across town anxious to sit down to a nice dinner with some cool new friends.
Was this the first time I've sat down and eaten with NL and Mkay? I thought to myself. I've been to backyard Bar B Q's at NL's pad before but not something with just the three of us. Hmm I thought this could be interesting or better yet this could be something to blog about!!!
So I get to the Garden and their already seated looking over menus. I sit down and we catch each other up on our day, our lives, our blogs. His blog, my blog, her blog. Blog, blog, blog it's all we know. A-ha a menu gets handed to me, here's something else I know about food!!! They keep talking about writing,. What they've learned what they know who they know what they want to accomplish with their writing. I casually slip away from the conversation and start to salivate over the menu. Oh what should I have?
Last time I was here I'm pretty sure I had the Shrimp Alfredo. My niece told me recently she usually gets the Giro De Italia cause it has a little bit of everything and leaves her stuffed, full to where she could barely walk. That's what I'm talkin about. I was strongly considering it. Then I thought to myself. This is something I'm trying to do a whole lot more of now when I eat. Actually think about what I'm about to eat.
Was I actually and truly hungry right now? I wasn't actually hungry, but I knew it was time to eat cause I hadn't eaten in a few hours I guess so might as well eat now. Right? Which makes me think why do I eat? Should I eat every few hours that I'm awake or should I only eat when I feel My body telling me 'hey you need some gas, some energy, feed me' Eat only when I feel the actual pangs of hunger, the emptiness of my gut howling at me. I mean come on how many times can I actually say I had ate because I was starving? Because my stomach was actually growling? Never I thought, I just eat because I think to myself okay it's time to eat so, lets eat.
My best friend U2 chick likes to say. "I'm a carnivour, I eat meat" I agree with this philosophy. My dad used to say "food is to be eaten" I agree with this one too.. My family and all my fiends are what you can call "good eaters" not much leftovers hanging around at our pads food is to be eaten, not saved for later, "you want that, cause I'll eat it" "oh man there's none left? I didn't even get to taste any!!" That's the kind of stuff you heard around mi casa.
Normal sized people like NL and Mkay eat differently than fat people and I was about to find that out.
The waitress came and asked if we were ready. We said yes, Mkay ordered first. "I'll have the pizza" she said. "Would you like to add a soup or salad?" The waitress asked. "Nope, just the pizza" How weird I thought. She came to Olive Garden and is not having the salad? Is that legal? The salad is soooo bomb here and they grade the cheese right in front of you!!! NL was up next. "I'll just have a bowl of soup" he said. Soup? Just soup, at the Olive Garden!. You gotta be fuckin kidding me. These people know there's so much more to eat here right? So much more than just soup...
Me doing a really bad job of secret photos at the Elitist Press meeting.
“You’re the premiere writer in Bakersfield.”
“No I’m not. You are,” I said. “Black Dog, you can outwrite me any day.”
I joked around. Why not? Black Dog was full of shit to compliment me like that. It’s fun to joke. But I would never take such a compliment seriously. I’m just a small time writer who has a lot of prose under his belt.
He wanted me to attend a meeting about the start-up of a local newspaper that was to be ruled by committee. Did he think I had great ideas? Could I help shape a local paper? Sure, I have ideas. They get stolen all the time. But who would listen? Black Dog? Would he listen to the idea of “instant hard news” and a co-op blogosphere of writers and a print version? And what about his partners? Who are they? And what is their mission? And the name of their paper?
In the end, no. I didn’t feel like I had a voice. I didn’t sense a committee atmosphere, and I didn’t even feel like the star reporter that Black Dog had built me up to be. I felt more distrusted, a nuisance… I got a “what is he doing here?” vibe in the first meeting. The second meeting I wasn’t even officially included. Three possible writers however contacted me. “I hope to see you there,” wrote one. Some of the writers liked my ideas. Cool. And so I write this article because at least here, I can say what I want to say and not feel ignored.
Heath Dobbler called me up. “Hey you going to this Elitist Press meeting?”
“Sure,” I said. “Where is it?”
“Pizza Palace on California.”
Sounds like my kind of party to crash. Something was up and I wanted to find out. I put on my favorite hat as of late: a Bakersfield Blaze cap with the bill flipped up. I was blazin’ on the trail of something, that’s for sure. Might as well throw on my “Dirty Spanglish” shirt too.
Black Dog and I met online because he was venting on his blog and took it out on me and my book before he read it. It’s really the only bad press I received on my book. I’m proud of it. For a long time he thought his blog was unreadable, that journalists weren’t reading his words, and that he could use his online words as a personal diary of sorts. Howard Owens tried to start a blog war by tipping me off to Black Dog. I gave the old black doggy a “whisper-in-the-ear” reply on his site. It was ghost-like. He jumped (His instant karma follow-up).
We became friends.
Nearly a year later, the Blackboard Free Press, Bakersfield’s underground newspaper kicked the bucket. Jason Ricketts hung up the towel, leaving room for existing niche market newspapers with a cultural slant to flourish in the ring: MAS Magazine, The Northwest Voice, The Southwest Voice, and a few others. Even Bakotopia and the Paperback Writer blog on nlbelardes.com suddenly had more wiggle room.
And you never know when Paperback Writer or Bakotopia might go into print. I stretched my legs. Traffic went up a few hundred unique hits per day. I’m holding steady at 2000.
Why not Bakotopia and Paperback Writer in print? Both cater to an audience wanting to be in touch with music, literature, theatre, and the occasional hard news and weird blogs. We compete, but in a friendly open love sort of way. Yes, we cross promote. There would be room for both papers if we did it.
In comes The Elitist Press, Bakersfield’s newest underground paper, run by the two people blurred in the background of this photo, and possibly one other:
Black Dog and Nicole (sp? unknown last name)
Black Dog is one of the folks running The Elitist Press. He wanted me to come and write for them. I offered to attend their first meeting. He claimed they were going to be run by committee. Was he even going to be on that committee?
The name of the paper had already been decided before the first meeting: The Elitist Press. I get it. It’s some joke that really states that mainstream media are the elitists showering down their perspectives of the universe on innocent readers. Kind of silly and stupid—definitely arrogant. A trap waiting to slam shut on itself perhaps? I think so. For instance, what if the tiny Elitist Press became successful, or mainstream? Would they change their name? “People aren’t going to get the joke,” I said to Black Dog. “You’re going to take heat.”
A newspaper name in my opinion needs to be straight forward, or hip and funky enough to cater to the audience they’re trying to target: 18-35. A name should not detract from trying to get a story. A name should not be controversial to the point where local folks might distrust honoring a press pass. Sounds too Aryan Nation and not multi-cultural. It’s too full of itself, even for a joke of a name.
I can already hear the snickers at the Californian. There are suits and ties and Mary Lou Fulton grimaces and shakes her head in sorrow because she might actually want to see an underground press flourish, but reads the name, The Elitist Press. She vomits.
Doesn’t matter. Black Dog mentioned one of his co-partners had been wanting to use The Elitist Press name for a long time. So much for a committee there… Black Dog was overruled.
The first meeting was held around October 3rd. The second meeting was last night. I showed up just before 7PM. I walked in as Heath Dobbler ordered a calzone. I kicked him in the ass.
I saw James Mongold in the crowd. He’d just been recruited. If anyone had great ideas, it was him. He’d been tipped off by his buddy A.S. Ashley on a great story about businesses being run out of a certain section of town. And Mongold has just enough stabbing prose and passion to write a great piece.
Mongold downs an energy drink at meeting #2 while the guy next to him talks about a bully story...
Punk man Heath Dobbler at the meeting. "I'll just write something. They can either use it or not," he said later.
“It would be nice to see a familiar face in the crowd,” Heath had said over the phone. He turned around and we shook hands. We wandered over to the V.I.P. because there was no alcohol at the Pizza Palace. Heath stepped up to the bar and bought two cold ones. We tipped Bud Lights, watched a bit of the Mets vs. the Cardinals and talked about my short story, Oilhead. Then he said, “I don’t know what they want me to write about. I don’t want to write politics…”
Eventually we wandered back to the pizza joint where a good number of folks hung out at a table.
A week before I caught wind of The Elitist Press mission statement written by… a committee?
Mission statement:
the elitist press is a group of local writers and artists committed to the ideas of free speech and expression. our goal is to shine a spotlight on local subcultures that are often overlooked by mainstream media and better represent the whole of kern county. the elitist press aims to become the premiere alternative news source of kern county and to showcase bakersfield. the way it is.
Once again, bold. This message bashes every other news source and alternative news source in town, including my own Paperback Writer blog. If I’m a premiere writer according to Black Dog, and yet, then… you get the logic. A fascist press in the making? Perhaps. What I can surmise from the mission statement is extremely fascistic, suppressing opposition like any good fascist outlook would.
Yet, what I was beginning to understand was that Black Dog was indeed, a silent supporter of me, that the elitists were really not the mainstream and other alternative medias the newspaper name was supposed to poke fun at, but the very people in command of this not-yet-running press, and possibly a husband/wife duo, with one of them hiding their true job, though I wouldn’t lump Black Dog in with such a mess… he seems like he's just there for the ride... and during the meetings, hardly even spoke.
The Elitist Press was no joke after all. By the second meeting, its own elitist nature touched surface.
During the meeting, one of the possible leaders of this newspaper tried to verbally combat me on a story idea.... that’s this guy Joe in this fuzzy photo where you can't even tell what he looks like:
He held up his hands, not wanting a photo but I got this shot anyways, albeit fuzzy. What was he hiding? What was this I heard later that identities had to be hidden or people might lose their jobs from a young female writer outside of the pizza joint? Why was Nicole allowed to take photos at the first meeting, but I was not? The girl asked why I didn't take more photos. Obvious confusion there. She mentioned some identities were hidden. Why? What kind of newspaper lurks in its own shadows and hides identities while claiming a need to be professional? Joe spoke up several times about the need to be professional.
Someone in the room had just talked about a story about “Crappy Santa Clauses”. Cute idea. I then offered up an idea on a story about interviewing a convicted killer, the very person the narrator in my story was based on. Joe went on the attack: “That’s a bad idea. No one wants to read about that. It doesn’t fit our 18-35 target audience.”
“You think an article about crappy Santa Clauses is more important than an article about the Lords of Bakersfield, and the very guy who was a teenager when he committed crimes? Kids can associate...” I had just offered a huge story. But Joe seemed to have it out for me. So did his wife, Nicole. Yesterday I received three messages from people in the room who loved the idea. One wrote to me that if she had sat closer to Joe she would have shover a boot up his tush... I laughed.
Nicole went on to say, “We want to review books.”
“I do that on my blog,” I said.
“We want timely books.”
What kind of moron is this Nicole? When do I not review timely books? And what is a timely book? I review books sometimes before they hit the bookshelves. I reviewed If It Bleeds and Oracles just recently, with Punk Shui, Futureproof and Drugs are Nice in the pipe. These are all hugely important books. Well, maybe not Punk Shui... She needs to read Paperback Writer. Oh wait, she’s one of the fascist leaders with the no-joke elitist mission statement: the elitist press aims to become the premiere alternative news source of kern county and to showcase bakersfield. the way it is.
Needless to say, I left their meeting feeling like I had gathered some good information on the true nature of The Elitist Press.
Someone is being duped. Innocent writers? Maybe. James Mongold’s ideas were fresh. I hope they don’t dictate to him.
Later, over the phone Black Dog mentioned that some people didn’t want me to attend because they thought I worked for Bakotopia.
What? Am I taking money as Matt Munoz media bitch?
I do?
Don’t I always say here that I don’t get paid to write my blog?
I DON’T GET PAID.
Give me a break. Bakotopia is a promotional tool. Matt Munoz helps get the word out. Sure, I’m careful to not include all of each article I upload to their site. But we work together. I’m not part of some big media scam where I get paid. That’s crazy talk. That’s paranoia and no way to operate a paper.
In the newspaper business you’re supposed to be fearless, courageous… honest.
If they were smart, they would take advantage of the blog capabilities of the local news outlets to promote their own paper. That's an in right through the back doors... they could steal readers. Or borrow them as I do.
That’s if they took their fascist blinders off their Elitist name, and dishonesty out of their intentions.
I had other problems with their meeting. Joe blatantly made fun of disabled people after someone brought up a story idea about disabled folks being taught to vote. Sure, he was joking. But this was a PROFESSIONAL atmosphere. And one guy supposedly wrote a funny article how bullies need to come back and rule the universe, not geeks.
Screw that. Bullies suck. Wasn’t a bully mentality part of the cause for the Columbine shooters attack on innocent kids and teachers? That’s just incredibly lame and insensitive.
I will say one thing however: makes you wonder if their newspaper will be half as good as the drama of this article.
OK—I picked the Arizona Cafe. I admit, I've been there before. I wanted to start out our "Dos Bandidos Restaurant Review", with what I would consider (being Hispanic and all... not), authentic Mexican food. To set a standard BEFORE we visited all the “Gringo El Amigo Locos" out there. So I'm sure there will be a Mexican out there who will want to argue the "Arizona Cafe is not authentic point". Whatever. Argue with someone who cares. The atmosphere is classic "Bakersfield" Mexican, with generous use of Formica, maps of Mexico (courtesy of Corona), bad art, uninspired menu, and red vinyl booths.
Before I review the actual food l would like to share a thought, which you may find true for yourself. When I'm hungry, Mexican food always sounds good but afterwards I wonder why I think this. I mean, it starts out good—endless baskets of hot, greasy chips and salsa. But about midway through the meal I always feel stuffed, lethargic and maybe a little nauseous. The weird part is... I'll continue to eat. Like Jabba the Hut, I'm still shoveling chips in my mouth while waiting for the check.
Which brings me to:
The chips were excellent—crisp, salty and warm. The salsa was "OK". A bit uninspired—prompting NL to ask the question, "Do you think this is fresh?"
"Of course it's fresh you idiot!" I said, secretly thinking it might be doctored up Pace salsa. I ordered the Chili Colorado ($8). I've had it before and I know it to be delicious. Spicy with a smoky molé backbeat. I talked NL into the Chile Verde, which I also have tried and don't really care for—although I told NL how great it was because I wanted him to try it.
Let me explain: it is good, don't get me wrong. It's just that it doesn't fit into my preconceived gringo ideal of Verde. They cook it on the bone and serve it that way. So it's like a plate of boiled ribs. And the sauce isn't really green, it's sort of brown—so it's not really Chile Verde, but more Chile Browne. Chingpea (BTW—I've never referred to her by this name—nor will I ever again except in this goofy blogosphere) had some enchiladas and complained that there was too much chicken. That's like saying there's too much lettuce in the salad. Go figure.
Chile Colorado at the Arizona Cafe...
If you look at the pictures—you can see the main course takes up the whole plate and the side dishes are just that... (BTW—you can just ignore them. bleh.) so there's no room to "prep" up a burrito out of the delicious home made tortillas. So you have to do one of those "Ohhh sheeeet this is hot" tortilla toss from hand to hand while at the same time slopping molten lava Colorado on it... and then ending up laying it on the grimy table to fold it up anyway, negating all attempts for a sanitary meal.
Service is non-existent. Like when the waiter/jefe asked if we wanted refills—it was like he was secretly willing us not to.
It seemed unusually busy. Overall—I recommend it for an alternative Mexican lunch retreat (Alternative to El Adobe-Toritio-Amigo-Que Pasa fare).
Chips and Salsa: ***1/2 Food: ***1/2 Service: * Atmosphere: ***
N.L. Bandito:
Willieboy and I decided to evolve our experience with La Costa Earwig into something bigger and better for the community. How? By diving as deep as we could into Bakersfield Mexican food culture.
Recently I talked to the Ska King of Bakotopia, Matt Munoz. He said, “Bakersfield has the best Mexican food restaurants in the U.S.” Talk about a bold statement…
And so the adventure began. Willieboy and I took chingpea along to our inaugural report destination: Arizona Café in old town Kern on Baker Street. Oh yes, bums walk freely down the verandas of old town Kern. The buildings are slapped together like old adobe bricks made from refried beans, clay and grass. And yet, rumors had it that within such an eyesore rested one of the most authentic Mexican food restaurant experiences you could ever have in Bakersfield. Even the front door to the restaurant was more like wandering through a rancheria kitchen door than a restaurant. In a way, it was also like breaking into an Old West prison.
The pool hall down the street...
We walked in and were instantly thrown into a restaurant that seemed ripe for a shootout. Weathered Mexican cowboys wandered in, while an entire family hung out where two tables had been pushed together. They seemed to ignore the vaqueros and semi-bald waiter who strangely reminded me of Cheech Marin in the movie, Desperado.
A rustic feel... yes, the paintings are that faded.
A fully stocked bar could be seen behind a long bartop set with rustic tiles. Tattered and faded paintings lined a high ceiling. Could blood splatter that high in a shootout? I considered flicking the salsa from the warm chips. Yes, warm chips are good. The salsa however, seemed like it was poured from some vat of pre-made bulk restaurant dip. Yet, the warmness of the chips made up for any sub par salsa considerations.
Authentic is the best word to describe the presentation of the food: a plate of Chile Verde on the bone, and two side bowls—pinto beans (not refried) and rice (not enough rice for a rice eater like myself). The waiter, slow in bringing chips, gave us a shifty-eyed glance but was especially prompt with bringing our entrees, which included an extra bowl of the Chile Verde sauce and tortillas so hot that I practically flipped one onto the waiter’s bald head.
The Chile Verde sauce was not green. Didn’t matter. Though it was as rustic as the cowboy hats and tiles, it was tasty, and that’s what mattered. I poured sauce on my rice while Willieboy dumped some of his Colorado mole onto his…
Chile Verde on the bone you ask? Yes, it was marvelous, though a little fatty. The meat peeled right off and had a delightful semi-greasy flavor. I could barely finish my meal even though I sought more rice.
Of course, before we showed up, Willieboy mentioned I would dirty up my white T-shirt. Right. I’m Chicano. He thinks I can’t balance some meat and rice in a tortilla without sloshing some onto myself?
I did.
A blast of Chile Verde!
And let me tell you, it was the kind of spray and splatter I expected to see on the walls. Only upon closer examination, there was a mysterious air about the splatter pattern. Could it be? No. Yes! It was like a stipple painting of the Virgin herself. Perhaps authentic in old town Kern means mystical, spiritual and tasty… We decided right away to offer the shirt on ebay, unwashed, as is—you know the routine.
Just don’t expect the best service in the world from the Arizona Café. Looked like a husband and wife were the waiter and waitress, and she looked like she might have snuck a couple of sips from the old Corona six-pack below the cash register. So I think we lucked out in the deal. We only got our drinks refilled once, and even then it looked like a gunfight about to break out. Sorry we asked! Willieboy had to tackle the waiter just to pay the bill: about $8 a meal plus drinks. They had cheaper lunch specials on the menu, but we weren’t in the house to save money. We wanted authenticity, and we got it.
Chips and Salsa: *** Food: *** Service: *1/2 (Do you expect good service from an El Mariachi film?) Atmosphere: ****
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Michael "Willieboy" Willis is a grizzled 46 year old graphic artist. His studio, coincidentally called "Willis Design Studios", has been operating in Bakersfield for the last 26 years. His 15 minutes of fame came in 1997 when he co-authored a best selling book about webpage design titled "Web Pages That Suck". The rest remains a mystery. His personal page is www.willieboy.com.
A weekly dose of the Philadelphia burbs is an exclusive view of life in urban East Coast America. Jen Burke of the novel and blog, A Life Less Convenient: Letters to My Ex shares her photos and thoughts exclusively with us at Paperback Writer. You can purchase her book at Merge Press. A big thanks to Jen for her recent shout out about Lords: Part One on her very beautiful website in a piece titled, N.L. Belardes: Urban Legends and Film Contests. -n.l.
Someday I want to be able to take driving/car pics that are as luscious as scenes from Hiroshima, mon amour. This is one of many cab pics. Considering how dangerously close they come to my car on a regular basis, I get plenty of shots. This one did not, in fact, take off my left headlight. I spend an obscene amount of time driving on Broad and Market Streets in Philadelphia. Since I thought to bring my cam with me, I've never enjoyed them more...
